Secrets Abroad: A Fake Fiancée Romance

by D. G. Whiskey

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  Also by D.G. Whiskey

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  ROMANCE ABROAD:

  Secrets Abroad: A Fake Fiancée Romance

  STANDALONES:

  Pulse: A Stepbrother Romance

  Steal: A Bad Boy Romance

  Royal Rogue: British Bad Boy Romance

  Shaken: A Football Romance

  Fallen: An Angel Romance

  Extracurricular

  DEVEREUX NOVELS:

  Capturing Liberty

  Taking Flight

  Chasing Charity

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  Shaken: A Football Romance

  Chapter One

  ~Juliette~

  PRESENT

  “Sign on every dotted line.”

  There were hundreds of them. A dozen on every page spread out before me.

  “Is this all necessary?”

  The man in the suit, Mr. Reynolds, nodded. “If you want to run this study, the league’s demands must be agreed to in writing, and your signature proves you’ve read and will abide by the rules they’ve set.”

  I gave the mountain of paperwork a dubious look. “It would take me a full year to read all of this. Just signing it will take me all day.”

  The lawyer didn’t respond. He just stared at me until I grabbed the pen to sign my life away.

  “Can you at least give me an idea of what I’m agreeing to?”

  He referred to a sheet in his hand. “The most pertinent section of the agreement states that all researchers are to maintain strictly professional conduct at all times. Any observance of unprofessionalism will terminate the contract and the study, and all rights to the data collected will revert to the league and be unavailable for publication.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Unprofessionalism? What does that mean, exactly? Is there a dress code?”

  Mr. Reynolds cleared his throat. “I believe the area of most concern to the league is any interaction with players, coaches or staff they deem inappropriate.”

  I had a good idea what he was getting at, but it was nice to force the lawyer outside his comfort zone.

  “You mean I’m not allowed to make fun of them? What if they have another terrible season this year?”

  He glared at me. “The contract specifically mentions carnal relations.”

  Dr. Kent smacked the table. “Oh, for goodness’ sake. The league is just grasping at any opportunity they can to shut this study down. They’ve denied me access for fifteen years, and now that I finally have support on my side, they’ll use anything they can to stop it.”

  I gave a sidelong look at my mentor and the lead researcher on the study. I’d never seen a man more passionate about his work than Dr. Kent, and this was his dream study—the paper that would cement his reputation as the foremost researcher in his field.

  “Nevertheless, it’s in the league’s contract, and you can either agree to it, or everything stops here.” Mr. Reynolds tapped the documents. “What’s it going to be?”

  Dr. Kent grumbled a few words under his breath. It was mostly unintelligible, but I caught “fuckers” and “assholes.”

  “It’s not a problem.” I laughed and put my hand on Dr. Kent’s arm. “I’m not exactly planning on sleeping with any football players while I’m here. They’re not my type.”

  Not since one stole my heart all those years ago.

  My reassurance perked up the professor. “That’s right. Juliette is the brightest mind in the entire graduate program—that’s why she was picked to work on this study for her thesis. The league can throw whatever they want at us. We will complete this study.”

  Mr. Reynolds nodded. “As you say, the league isn’t thrilled about this investigation into the effect of concussions on player safety and long-term health. I’ll recommend off the record to toe the line very carefully, because they will watch every move you make for a reason to claw back their permission.”

  “We understand,” I said, taking the lead when I saw how riled up Dr. Kent was getting. “Thank you, Mr. Reynolds. We’ll have the paperwork signed by tomorrow. You’ll have to give us that long to at least look it over.”

  “That sounds fair. Now, I’ll introduce you to Tony Perkins, the head coach. He’ll give you a tour of the facilities and show you where to set up your equipment.”

  A few moments later, Mr. Reynolds re-entered the conference room with a shorter man in tow.

  “Tony, please meet Juliette Cartwright and Dr. Kent. They are running the concussion study in cooperation with the league. I’ll leave them with you, and you can show them around. If you need anything from the league in relation to the study, call me.”

  The lawyer left, leaving Tony behind. He had the build of a football player who’d settled down and stopped working out, a gut filling his shirt on an otherwise solid frame. A visor let his graying hair breathe.

  “So, you’re the scientists, huh?” He gave us a hard look and held out his hand. “Tony Perkins. I’m Los Angeles’s head coach. I have a lot on my plate, so I won’t have much time for you once the season gets into full swing, but I can give you a tour to get you started. Today’s the first day of training camp, so we’re easing into things today.”

  We introduced ourselves and followed Tony as he led us through wide, well-lit hallways painted with the team colors. A pair of doors with small windows opened into a wide, white room.

  “This is the exercise lab,” Tony said. “This is where the athletes take their performance tests, and it’s right next door to the weight room and rehab facilities. You’ll have a station set up in here for you to work at.”

  The room held a trove of state of the art equipment. The college had just overhauled its sports medicine wing, and that sparkling facility looked hopelessly outdated next to the gleaming machines and analysis equipment carefully laid out in the team’s lab.

  After the lab, he led us down a wide hall and into the sun.

  “And here’s the practice field.” He stood at the end of the tunnel, hands on his hips as he surveyed the green expanse. Players in basic white and black uniforms warmed up on the grass, running light drills and performing dynamic stretches.

  “This is a nice facility,” Dr. Kent noted.

  “Brand new this year,” Tony said. “Doesn’t feel like we deserve it after the disgrace of last season, but our fortune is about to turn around. You’ve come on a special day for us—the big trade with Portland has finally gone through, and our new quarterback, Travis King, is joining us today.”

  Dr. Kent’s jaw dropped. “Travis King is joining Los Angeles? How did I miss that announcement?”

  I was nonplussed. Even though he was dedicated to researching athletic trauma, he never struck me as a fanboy.

  “Is that a big deal?” I asked.

  Both men looked at me as if I’d grown another nose on my forehead.

  “Big deal?” Tony finally said. “Travis King is incredible. He is the best quarterback in the league, maybe even the best in the past twenty years.”

  I shrugged. I purposefully ignored football. I never knew when a certain face might appear on TV and shatter my heart again.

  “Speak of the devil—there he is!” Tony nodded toward the tunnel. A form in a pristine white uniform stood at the edge of the field, football tucked under his arm, watching the players going through their warm-ups. He was too far away to see his face, but the form underneath the tight clothing could have been sculpted from marble.

&nb
sp; “Can you introduce us?” Dr. Kent asked. “I’ve always wanted to meet Travis King, but I never thought I might have the chance.”

  He was like a giddy school girl. I had never seen the normally reserved and dignified professor act like this.

  “Sure, but he’ll only want to spare a moment. The man is a hunter, and he will be completely focused on getting to work learning our systems.”

  Tony waved his arms to catch the quarterback’s attention. Travis’s big, lean body moved like a well-oiled machine, perfect grace guiding his steps.

  I was so busy watching his body that I didn’t look up at his face until he was almost at our side. When I did, the world stopped.

  It can’t be…

  I’d dreamt of that face every night for five years.

  My heart jumped from a leisurely standstill to a thunderous tattoo against my chest, and despite the extra blood flow, I felt faint, like I didn’t have enough oxygen.

  He barely looked in my direction, but I couldn’t look away.

  He must not remember me. It’s been too long. He’s been with too many women since then. Florida was so long ago.

  My mind ran in circles, tumbling over itself as I fought to regain a semblance of control. The men were oblivious as I verged on panic.

  “Travis, meet Dr. Kent. He’ll be running that concussion study you may have heard about. Los Angeles drew the short straw and was selected as the pilot team.”

  “Doctor.” Travis nodded and shook his hand. “I’m sure the team finishing dead last in the standings didn't help.”

  “You may be right.” Tony nodded. “But that’s in the past now that you’re here, isn’t it?”

  “We’ll figure it out, coach. You already know my ambitions. I want to build a dynasty here, and I’ll need your help to do it.”

  “Anything you need, Travis. This here is Juliette Cartwright. She’s a grad student helping Dr. Kent out.”

  He turned and held out his hand.

  A jolt rocked his body as he looked at my face for the first time.

  He recovered much quicker than I had.

  “Juliette.” It sounded so right coming out of his mouth. “That’s a pretty name. I’ve waited a long time to hear it.”

  Chapter Two

  ~Travis~

  PAST

  “Here we go,” Ricky said with a punch to my shoulder as we walked off the plane. “Spring break is here. You ready, man?”

  I grinned at my teammate. “Ready? Miles of beach, hundreds of hot women and no football practices in sight? I’ve been waiting for this all year—maybe even all my life. I can’t believe I missed last year.”

  “You’ve got that right. We’ll be kings of the beach. Bitches love football players.” Ricky looked back at the four men exiting the plane behind us. “Isn’t that right, fellas?”

  Chad flexed an arm and patted the bulging bicep. “They can’t get enough of the muscles. Go crazy for ‘em. Like shooting fish in a barrel.”

  “Hey, we should have a competition,” Ricky said. “Whoever bangs the most broads wins, and everyone else owes him a case of beer.”

  I sized up the wide receiver. He may be on the starting roster, but I was a quarterback. As soon as Jeff graduated, I’d take the top job and run the highest-ranked college offense in the country.

  “You’re on.”

  The others chimed in—no one wanted to be the guy who admitted he didn’t have a chance at hooking up with the most women.

  We weren’t the only college students in the airport. It was flooded with spring breakers, as if all aircraft had a maximum age limit of twenty-two for the day.

  “Dayum.” Ricky nudged me and pointed ahead of us. A group of four girls were talking and laughing, wearing tight clothes that showed off a serious amount of bronzed skin. “I bet you anything they’re from California. Don’t know why they’d even bother coming here when they’ve got it made out there, but Cali girls are fucking freaky.”

  I shook my head. “Ricky, have you ever even met a girl from California? And no one calls it Cali. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

  “Whatever, man. I’m just saying they’re hot as hell. I’d get on that all night, if you know what I mean.”

  I laughed. Ricky was crude and single-minded, but at least it was entertaining. “That’s not an innuendo, Ricky. Of course I know what you mean.”

  Besides, he had a point. The girls turned heads all the way through the airport. By the time we’d followed them to the baggage carousels, they must have surpassed car accidents as the leading cause of whiplash in the state.

  While they were all pretty, the brunette on the right was radiant. I kept forcing my gaze away to keep from staring, but seconds later, I found any excuse to look her way once more.

  We found our carousel, but the bags hadn’t come out yet. The girls waited for their own at the next one over, standing a mere dozen feet away.

  “Travis!” Ricky slapped my arm.

  “Huh? What’s up?”

  “Here’s your chance to get ahead in the kill count. Go talk to the girl you’ve been eye-fucking for the past ten minutes.”

  He hadn’t lowered his voice—he’d practically shouted the words.

  The brunette looked our way. Her green eyes found mine, flicked down my body, and back up to my face. She raised her eyebrows and turned back to her friends.

  She said something quietly, and the whole group tittered like a gaggle of songbirds.

  I shoved Ricky’s shoulder. “Damn it, man, what the hell?”

  I crossed the gap to the group of girls.

  “Hey, I’m sorry about my friend. He’s got a mouth big enough to eat his own foot.”

  The brunette cocked her head to the side and stepped away from her friends as they hunted for their bags. “And I’m guessing you’re the more considerate type?”

  I smiled. She was willing to play ball.

  “I’m just the perfect amount of considerate, sexy. I’ll bend you over, but I’ll buy you a drink first.”

  She put a hand on her hip. “What if I have a bad back? Bending over puts such a strain on it, you know.”

  My smile widened to a grin. “I know how to stretch you out just fine.”

  “Tempting. I think your friends are a bad influence on you. Maybe you should spend your time with me instead.”

  I opened my mouth to reply, but she turned away and picked up a bright flowery bag from the carousel.

  Instead of returning, she walked over to her friends and they made for the exit. I watched them go, but she never looked back.

  “Oh, my God,” Ricky said, walking over from our teammates. “That was brutal. You should see the look on your face right now. Classic. This bet is so mine.”

  I ignored him, unable to tear my eyes away from the door.

  Something important had just slipped out of my grasp.

  PRESENT

  This is it. This is your shot. Your opportunity to build a legacy they will never forget.

  It felt good, the first walk down the tunnel to the practice field. Like I’d come home. My first two years in the league had been good, but I still didn’t have a championship, and in Portland, I’d had to share the spotlight with one of the league’s top running backs.

  Here, it would be all about me. And I wouldn’t disappoint.

  I couldn’t. My whole life had built to this point.

  The trade had caught the league by storm. No quarterback in his right mind would not only agree to be traded, but actively pursue a fresh start with the worst team in the league.

  No other quarterback has my balls.

  And no other quarterback had the vision to see that this team only lacked a good arm and steady leadership on the field to become decent. With a couple of extra pieces added in from signings and trades, we might even be competitive.

  A waving arm caught my attention. The head coach, Tony Perkins. Just the man I was looking for.

  He was with two other people, but the men on the field c
aptured my attention. Integrating with a new team was always difficult, and my mind spun as I went over my strategies for gaining their trust. I barely paid attention as I shook the doctor’s hand.

  When I went to shake the second hand, I finally looked at her, and the thoughts stopped.

  Everything stopped.

  Say something!

  My mind was a blank, but thankfully, my mouth was used to operating with little conscious thought guiding it.

  “Juliette? That’s a pretty name. I’ve waited a long time to hear it.”

  I wanted to say more. I wanted to ask her where she’s been, what she’s done.

  “Thank you, Travis.” She smiled, and it looked just like I remembered. “I’m glad to see you finally made it off the second string.”

  Tony and Dr. Kent wore identical expressions—jaws open, eyebrows knit together, looking back and forth between us as if they watched a tennis match.

  “Excuse us for a moment, will you?” I said to them and grabbed Juliette’s arm to pull her a few yards away.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  Her eyes hadn’t left my face since I first saw her. “Dr. Kent and I are running a concussion study, like Tony said.”

  “Not that. I thought you were going into geriatrics.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “I’m surprised you remembered that. After our fling in Florida, I found sports medicine more interesting, so I switched my focus.”

  It was surreal to stand next to her once more. The long brunette hair was exactly as I remembered, but she wore a demure blouse and pants instead of the bikini top and short shorts I’d fantasized about for so long.

  It didn’t make her any less attractive.

  She wore the face of a self-possessed woman, different in subtle but distinct ways from the teenager she’d been, but she was as gorgeous as ever, if not more so. Every contour of her cheekbone and jaw sparked a cascade of vivid memories that threatened to drown me out of the present.